The Twilight Zone
by Sunalso
Summary: S4. Things are weird in Sunnydale. Next stop, the Twilight Zone! (Yes, that Twilight Zone, and that other Twilight, but NOT the comics Twilight). An AU version of 'Something Blue'. Spuffy, fluffy, and occasionally silly. Beta'd by Gort.
1. Chapter 1: Where is Everybody?

_Thank you for taking a chance on this fluffy and silly little Spuffy fic. I wanted to thank anyone who leaves a guest review or who doesn't have pm's enabled but still reviews, for their time in both reading and reviewing my craziness. I hope you all enjoy! Originally written for the October 2016 Artistic Anniversary Challenge at Elysian Fields, for banner #71 by puddinhead._

* * *

Let's go into twilight

-Perry Farrell, "Go All the Way"

* * *

The couch's springs complained as Spike shifted on them. At least it wasn't the hard porcelain of the Watcher's sodding tub again. He didn't know why Buffy had let him sleep untied on the couch, he was just glad she had. Circulation or not, a little padding was appreciated.

His nose twitched. The most amazing scent was tickling it. Sugar, spice, and everything nice.

Sitting upright, Spike stretched. His stomach was empty and he hoped Giles had a cup or two of blood left. Headed for the kitchen, the sight of Buffy asleep in the arm chair made him stop dead in his tracks. Her face was soft in sleep and without her perpetual look of seething hatred she was really bloody beautiful. Lovely. Gorgeous. Glowing. Effulgent.

Oh, wait, no.

Spike scratched the back of his head and looked around uneasily. But there was no one else in the room. Concentrating for a second he determined there wasn't another person in the apartment. Where had the Watcher and the rest of the Slayer's fan club gotten off to? Had they just run off and left him loose with the girl napping? That was a little odd.

He really should eat something, but then his eyes got caught again by the way the curve of her calf turned into the crease of her knee, which became the strong line of her thigh. His gaze traveled up until it reached her face.

Her exquisite green eyes were looking back at him.

Spike stood rooted to the spot. Oh, Christ. He was going to die. The Slayer was going to pull a stake out of wherever she pulled them out of and end his now-pitiful existence. Which was really too bad because he still hadn't figured out what that delicious smell was.

No stake appeared. "Do you like watching me sleep?" she asked, smiling.

Uh. There was no good answer to that one.

"I like when you watch me sleep," Buffy purred.

"Am I dead?" he whispered. That must be why the Slayer hadn't chained him back up. He'd fallen asleep and she'd dusted him rather than bothering to make him move. Now he was stuck in hell. A really good smelling hell.

"Of course you're dead, silly, you're a vampire." She giggled and tossed her hair over her shoulder.

Her swinging tresses brought a fresh wave of that amazing scent to his nose. It was her. It was Buffy that smelled like the most miraculous thing in existence.

Balls.

"I need blood," he said and somehow took his eyes off her and the perfect soft pink pout of her lips.

He made it to the kitchen and opened the fridge, bending down to look for the Styrofoam container from the butcher's. It was in the back and as he reached for it the glow from the lightbulb in the fridge played over his arm. To his horror, the light broke apart and shimmered on his skin.

Oh, fuck. He was sparking like a bloody disco ball.

Spike shut the door to the fridge very quickly. "Slayer," he called weakly. "I, uh, something isn't right. Can you come and, uh, help?" He slumped to his knees on the worn out linoleum of the kitchen floor.

"Sure!" She walked towards the kitchen. As she reached the doorway her toe caught on something and she went sprawling onto the floor. "Oops!" she tittered. "You know me, total klutz."

"Since when?"

"Since always!" She got to her knees and scooted next to him. Her face was pinched with worry. "What's wrong, baby? You seem upset."

Baby? The Slayer had gone completely off her rocker. "Well…" He opened the fridge and stuck his arm into the glare of the bright white light, twisting his limb this way and that to show off what had happened to him.

"That's remarkable," Buffy breathed. She ran her warm fingers over his inner arm, making the skin twitch. "It's beautiful."

"Uh," he managed. She leaned forward, bracing one hand on his knee. Her hair was right under his nose and it smelt so bloody good that he couldn't help it. Spike leaned forward and buried his face against her head, inhaling deeply. Buffy was continuing to run her distracting fingers all over his arm and cooing at him.

The front door of the apartment banged open.

"It's gone crazy out there. Everything outside is with the uber-weirdness," Xander yelled into the apartment. "It's pitch dark at nine in the morning and you're going to have to see the rest to believe it."

Spike meant to stop and pull away from her, but it was difficult when she was leaning against him and being distracting with her divine scent and soft, warm hands.

"Guys?" Xander wandered over to the kitchen. His eyes widened as he took in the tableaux in front of him. "Okay, um, what?"

Buffy didn't look up from Spike's arm. "Spike sparkles and he likes watching me sleep," she said.

Spike looked helplessly at Xander. "She smells like heaven."

"Oh no." Xander's face had gone pale. "Inside is even weirder than outside."


	2. Chapter 2: Nightmare at Not So Many Feet

Some kind of magic

-Paramore, "I Caught Myself"

* * *

Great googly-moogly but it'd been nearly impossible to get both Buffy and Spike standing upright and not touching each other.

"Giles!" Xander exclaimed when it looked like they were about to tumble back into another session of super gross petting and hair smelling. "We're going to find Giles and figure out what the heck is going on."

"Right," Spike said, his eyes darting to Buffy. The bleached pain-in-the-ass obviously had some addiction issues because he was already swaying back towards her, his nose twitching.

Xander sighed and grabbed Buffy's wrist, pulling her along behind him. Spike trailed after them as he shrugged on his duster.

When they reached the parking lot, both Spike and Buffy stared up at the dark sky.

"What time is it?" Buffy asked.

"Something like nine in the morning," Xander answered. "That'd be big weirdness number one."

Spike's eyes narrowed. "Feels like nine, too, but the instinct that's usually screaming: 'Bad, danger, daylight, argh!' is keeping quiet at the mo'."

"Oh!" Buffy clasped her hands together. "I bet you'd look amazing in the sun! It'd be like you were covered in diamonds!"

Spike groaned. "Yeah, pet, for the two seconds before I was Mr. Big-Pile-of-Dust."

"I wouldn't want that." Buffy's lower lip crept out in a pout. "Do you think it'd be sparkly dust?"

"Yes, because I'm in hell." Spike shoved his hands into the pocket of his duster. "What the?" He pulled a hand back out with a set of keys dangling from it. "I didn't…is that my car?"

Spike ran past them and Xander let go of Buffy in order to keep up with him. The vampire halted beside a monstrosity of a black car. It looked so old that it should be in a museum. What a surprise. One antique deserved another.

"Hey, Buffy," Xander called. "Where do you think Giles would be?"

"Library, probably," she answered. "We should start with the one at the old school. Sometimes he goes searching for things that weren't destroyed." As she stepped off the curb, she tripped.

Springing into action, Spike caught her before she hit the ground.

"Thank you," Buffy whispered. Gently, she cupped Spike's cheek. Xander felt like he might hurl.

"You have to be more careful!" Spike admonished, sweeping her up into his arms. "You're a bit of a klutz and I can't stand the idea of you getting hurt."

"Buffy's a klutz?" Xander was confused. "Since when?"

"Since always," Spike and Buffy replied in unison.

Xander rolled his eyes.

Spike opened the front passenger door of his car and gently placed Buffy inside. He made sure her seatbelt was tight before getting behind the wheel. Xander scrambled into the backseat as the car's engine roared to life.

As the vampire navigated the empty streets (where was everybody?), Xander looked out the back window. A light rain had started falling and at first Xander thought that he was seeing things, some trick of the streetlights and the water streaking down the glass.

But, no, there was totally something moving on the back of the car. Xander leaned forward, trying to see. It looked like a beaver. With thumbs. The thing was hanging onto the car's fin and appeared to be scraping at the taillight.

"Uh, Spike, the trunk…" Xander said. He looked at the vamp as Spike glanced in the review mirror.

"What about the trunk?" Spike asked.

"There's something on it."

Spike looked in the mirror again. "I don't see a bloody thing, mate."

Xander looked out the window, only to find nothing there. He groaned. Of course the whatever was gone. "I swear there was something there!" he insisted.

"Sure, probably Mary Poppins," Spike huffed.

Xander gave up. In the front seat Buffy placed her hand over Spike's on the gear shift, then ran her fingers up his leather-clad arm.

Oh god. What the hell was happening?

"You'll keep watching me when I'm sleeping, right?" Buffy asked Spike breathlessly.

Spike rumbled something noncommittal. The rumble turned into a purr when Buffy's hand reached his neck and petted the skin there.

Eww.

Xander looked away. Just in time to see the thing on the trunk prying at the taillight again. Right as he was going to say something they drove into a tunnel and everything went dark. He stared at the black window until they came out of the tunnel. He yelped, in a manly way of course. The thing was pressed right up against the window, its bulgy eyes staring at him and its pursed lips opening and closing silently.

"Buffy," Xander turned. Oh, for crying out loud, she was petting Spike's hair now. "Would you stop? That demon-beaver thing is back. Would you just look? It's trying to tear the car apart."

"I don't see anything," Buffy said, shrugging.

Spike snorted. "You going loopier than usual? Did that ex-vengeance bird shag the last remaining brain cell right out of your thick head?"

Sure enough, the thing was gone. Xander rubbed a hand over his eyes.

"Demon beaver," Spike muttered. "You don't know the first thing about demon beaver."

"Spike!" Buffy squeaked. "Please, don't."

Immediately the vampire looked contrite. "Sorry, luv. Habit. Forgive me?"

"This once."

Xander leaned back and put his arm over his eyes. This day was turning out to be all kinds of wonderful. He should have stayed in bed this morning. There was a girlish giggle from the front seat. Peeking out from under his arm he saw Spike waggling his eyebrows at Buffy. Boy, this was a barrel of fun.

There was a scratching noise from the rear of the car. The beaver was back.

That was it.

Xander snagged an empty whisky bottle off the floorboard. He opened the door and leaned out. Both Spike and Buffy were yelling at him and the car swerved slightly. Xander took aim and let the bottle fly. The surprised demon-beaver-thing took the impact right on its ugly mug and went flying.

Slamming the car door, Xander slumped down and crossed his arms. "You're welcome," he said to a stunned Buffy and Spike.

A few minutes later they pulled into the parking lot of the old school. Getting out, the three of them paused at the rear of the car. The taillight housing was scratched and pulled up. They all looked at it for a second, then walked towards the library without a word.


	3. Chapter 3: You're Traveling Through

I'm strong on the surface

-Linkin Park, "Leave Out All the Rest"

* * *

"All aboard!" the conductor yelled. Angel sighed as he climbed onto the train and found himself a seat in the nearly empty car.

This was for Buffy. He was doing it for Buffy.

When Doyle had doubled over, clutching his head, Angel had been hoping it'd be something fun. With lots of violence and a big check at the end. Once Doyle was able to speak it was the worst case scenario: "Buffy." Followed by an insistence that Angel go by train, even though it took hours longer to get to Sunnydale because of the circuitous route and the fact that the train stopped at every one horse town.

Resigned, Angel pulled out his copy of _Infinite Jest_ and flipped it open. Cordy had given it to him as a gift and he felt compelled to read the damned thing, whether or not it made sense.

Chugging, the train pulled away from the station.

* * *

Buffy smiled up at the vampire walking next to her. His arm was protectively wrapped around her waist and he was constantly scanning the parking lot. "You never know when an out of control car can come out nowhere," he said.

When they reached the sidewalk his relief was palpable.

"Y'know." Buffy halted and crossed her arms. "I'm capable of taking care of myself."

Spike blinked. "Well, of course you are. You're the Slayer. You can protect yourself against all kinds of things that go bump in the night." He took a step closer to her. "But the random things? Rogue cars and the like? Those scare me. I can't let anything happen to you."

A shiver passed through Buffy. He was so close, he cared so much, and he sparkled so prettily. Slowly, he tilted his head, bringing their mouths closer until his lips hovered over hers. Her heart rate kicked up and breathing became more difficult. This was Spike. Her enemy. Only now he wasn't. All that passion, strength, dedication, now it was aimed at taking care of her instead of hurting her. A girl could be forgiven for liking that.

He bowed his head a little further and barely pressed his lips to hers. It lasted just a second, then he pulled away. But that second was enough for her body to come alight. She needed more.

Spike again pressed his lips to hers, chastely, for a brief moment. Desperately, his eyes searched her face. He looked as lost as she did.

"Spike," she whispered, and the dam broke. His mouth crashed into hers and his tongue demanded entrance. Gasping, she welcomed it. Her hands tangled in his hair as she mauled his lips. His fingers were digging into her hips.

There was a gagging noise that briefly registered as Xander being unhappy before Spike's sinful tongue didn't let her think about anything at all.

Abruptly, the kiss ended as Spike pushed her away. She ended up on her butt, looking up at him. He was wearing his demon face and panting hard. Taking a few steps back he shook off the vampiric features.

"What's wrong?" she asked, afraid she'd done something to upset him.

"You smell…God, Buffy. You taste better than you smell, even with the chip…Buffy, I can never lose control with you." He was trembling.

She nodded in understanding. Spike was protecting her again, this time from himself. And the chip hadn't fired so he hadn't actually tried to bite her. He'd just been thinking about it. She wondered what else he'd been thinking about doing to her. Her fingers brushed against her lips, which were still tingling from his kiss.

Xander helped her back to her feet. "When all this is over and everything's back to normal, we're going to never talk about this ever again," he grumbled.

Spike was fumbling in his pockets. He pulled out his cigarettes but otherwise came up empty. He stuck the filter of one of the smokes between his lips and sadly patted his pockets one more time. "Do you got a light?" he asked Xander. "I seem to have left my zippo back at the apartment."

Xander shook his head but pointed towards the side of the school. "Why don't you ask that guy?"

There was middle-aged man standing in front of a burned out classroom while a second guy set up a camera on a tripod. The first man had a cigarette in one hand that he was waving around as he spoke.

Shrugging a shoulder, Spike strode towards the strangers. Buffy followed, pulling Xander along by the sleeve.

The guy cleared his throat and the camera-guy, who appeared to be turning the old fashioned camera crank by hand, called: "Action!"

The dark haired man stared into the camera and took on an air of authority and mystery. "Witness Mr. Rupert Giles, a charter member in the fraternity of dreamers. A bookish man whose passion is the printed page, but who is conspired against by a gang of ungrateful teenagers and a pest of-"

"You got a light, mate?" Spike walked up to guy, who was even shorter than he was.

The man's shoulders slumped.

"Cut!" the cameraman yelled. "We'll take it from the top when you're ready, Mr. Serling."

"Yeah, I got a light." The man, who must have been Mr. Serling, passed a book of matches to Spike.

"Ta," the vampire said, deftly striking one and lighting his smoke.

"You can keep them, just get out of the damned shot," Mr. Serling grumbled.

Spike turned and held out his hand to her. "Let's go find your Watcher."

"You think he's here?"

"Doubt this cat would be talking about him otherwise."

"Oh, yeah." She wrinkled her nose, this day was really turning out all weird. "That makes sense."

She took Spike's hand and he squeezed her fingers. At least not everything had turned out bad. And, hey! Giles had that fancy LED flashlight. She could check and see if Spike sparkled all over. She giggled at the idea that she really might have to check _everywhere_. In the name of science, of course.

The cameraman yelled from behind them: "Action!"


	4. Chapter 4: Time Enough at Last

Our intentions always last that bit too long

-The Black Ghosts, "Full Moon"

The books were laid out in neat stacks. Sure, they were a little charred around the edges, but they were still able to be read.

The piles were neatly labeled by planned month and year of reading.

Now that Giles had no attachments to the Watcher's Council, or a fake job to maintain, or even something that resembled a regular romantic attachment, he, at last, had enough time to do all the reading he'd been putting off.

Even his Slayer wasn't really his anymore. She'd never exactly been obedient and now she'd insisted they keep a vampire as a pet. Spike obviously knew next to nothing about the commandos and should be so much dust. Instead, the two of them bickered back and forth like an old married couple. He was fairly sure that Buffy and Spike actually enjoyed getting each other's goat.

Giles adjusted his glasses and looked up just in time to see said vampire and Slayer walk into the library, their arms around each other's waists. He groaned. Well, that certainly explained a lot. At least this one didn't have a soul to lose. And, let's face it, he didn't have a girlfriend to lose this time either.

Xander rushed in behind the couple. "Giles!' he called.

"Yes?" he said, placing a bookmark in the volume he'd been reading and dropping the book with a thunk on the wooden table.

"Oh, thank goodness. Something's wrong. Actually, everything is wrong. And we couldn't find you. The sky's black, there's gremlins eating cars, people giving monologues, and-" Xander leaned forward and dropped his voice. "Spike and Buffy are smooching."

"I can see," Giles said dryly. Having ignored her Watcher completely, Buffy had an arm around Spike's neck and they were kissing passionately.

"Wait! Wait!" Xander flapped his arms and reluctantly the pair parted. "We're here for help, remember?"

"Right," Spike said.

Buffy's fingers brushed her lips. "Oh, yeah." She perked up. "And a flashlight! Giles!" she chirped. "I need your flashlight with the fancy LED bulb-thingies."

"What do you need a torch for?" Spike petted her hair and leaned forward, sniffing deeply.

"Not a torch, a flashlight. It's for science!"

"I see." Spike's nose was nearly touching the top of Buffy's head.

"Spike," Xander snapped. "No sniffing."

"But she smells good," Spike whined.

Giles blinked. He was done. Why did these idiots have to continually keep bothering him? "It's in what's left of my office." He waved a hand towards the door.

Smiling, Buffy untangled herself from Spike and sauntered in the direction he'd pointed.

"Xander, have you ever read _David Copperfield_?" Giles asked, pulling off his glasses to clean them with a handkerchief.

"I don't know." Xander frowned. "Is there two cities in that one?"

"Oh, bloody hell, you twit." Spike sighed. "That's _A Tale of Two Cities_. _David Copperfield_ is the one where the nipper's mum marries a fellow named Murdstone and then dies."

"Murdstone. Rather an excellent name for a villain, don't you think?" Giles asked, pleased that at least someone appeared to have received an education. Buffy actually may have done well in the reanimated-corpse-as-boyfriend department this time. Spike's accent might be decidedly lower-class, but at least he didn't butcher the Queen's English like Buffy and her friends. The California valley-girl accent was beyond the pale. It grated.

"It is, though I think Miss Havisham is the best named of Dicken' characters. She sounds positively disheveled just from the name alone." Spike leaned a hip against the table.

Giles opened his mouth, but his scintillating comment was interrupted as Buffy barreled back out of his office, holding up the flashlight. "Got it!" As she spoke her toe caught on what looked like nothing and she tripped.

With reflexes no human possessed, Spike caught her mid-fall. "Luv, you have to be careful! You know how clumsy you are!"

Giles couldn't get his head around that one. Buffy was many things, but a klutz wasn't one of them. "Since when have you been clumsy?" he asked, taking his glasses off to clean again.

"Since always!" Three voices chorused back at him.

Giles sighed.

"Check this out!" Buffy said and yanked Spike's shirt up. The vampire immediately tried to pull it back down but she swatted his hands away. Giles couldn't quite figure out why Buffy wanted him to look at Spike's admittedly very toned abdomen, but then she turned the flashlight on and played it over the pale skin.

Spike shimmered.

That was unusual.

"Isn't he pretty? Buffy enthused. She ran a hand over Spike's glittering stomach and the vampire's face went from alarmed to twitterpated. He swayed towards Buffy, his nose twitching.

"No, stop!" Xander put a hand on each of them. "We're supposed to be asking Giles for help. Not showing off Spike's sparkliness—and, seriously, I need eye bleach now—or discussing books." Xander relaxed as Spike and Buffy slowly took a step back from each other. "Look, Giles," he said. "Things are really messed up out there. Do you have any idea what's going on? How to stop this?" Xander put his hands on the table and leaned forward.

Giles sighed. "No, I don't." He glanced down at the copy of David Copperfield he'd been reading before being so rudely interrupted. Slowly he picked the book up. "And you know what, I don't care. All I want is a little peace and enough time to read. So, for once, leave me alone. You lot are adults, or near enough. Solve your own blasted problems this time."

Xander looked shocked.

"It's for science!" Buffy's petulant voice forced Giles to look over at her. She had her hand on Spike's belt and appeared to be trying to tug the front of his pants open with while aiming the flashlight at his crotch.

Spike was gently trying to keep her at bay. "Not in front of your mates," he hissed. "Later!"

That was it.

"Out!" Giles roared. He'd had enough stupidity to last several lifetimes.

The three huffed, shot him dirty looks, and left.

Giles sighed in relief. He was alone once more. Like always, his fingers pinched the bridge of his glasses to pull them off so he could polish the lenses one last time before settling down with his novel. Only this time the wire slipped through his fingers and the glasses landed on the floor.

He bent over to pick them up. The cracked lenses fell out and shattered further on the dirty cement.

Giles held the now empty frames up, his face a mask of grief.

"That's not fair," he muttered. "That's not fair at all."


	5. Chapter 5: Penny For Your Thoughts

I thought I was a fool for no one

-Muse, "Supermassive Black Hole"

* * *

The rain lashed the train car and Angel couldn't see anything beside the grey and wet. Which meant he should be reading his book. He was lucky he was a vampire, the thousand-plus-page doorstop would have been difficult for a human to hold and read for any length of time. He sighed and tried to focus on the tiny print, but the words swam before his eyes.

Next thing he knew he was being woken up by the conductor's loud voice. "Sorry, folks, intercom's broken! This stop is Willoughby Station!"

Angel glanced outside and gasped. The scene looked like something from a century ago. The night sky stretched overhead while people bustled about their business. Everyone looked so happy. A young woman in a demure dress with blonde hair cascading down her back looked up at him and smiled. Everything looked so peaceful and perfect.

There was a jolt and Angel blinked. He was looking at the rain running down the window again. Had he been dreaming?

"Sir?" The conductor was shaking his shoulder. "Sir?"

"Yes?" Angel yawned.

"Sorry to wake you, but the intercom isn't working. What stop are you looking for? I don't want you to sleep through it."

"Sunnydale."

"Ah, no problem. I'll let you know if you drift off again."

"Did we stop at a place called Willoughby?" Angel asked.

The conductor shook his head. "Never heard of it, but I'll look it up for you the first chance I get."

"Thanks." Angel sat back, frowning. It hadn't felt like he'd been dreaming and Willoughby sure looked like a nice place.

* * *

"Pizza," Buffy said in a tone that brooked no argument.

"Fine." Spike gave into the girl's request. If Buffy was hungry she would probably be even more prone to tripping over or running into things than she usually was. And maybe the smell of greasy dough and past its prime cheese would override the mouthwatering scent Buffy was giving off.

It was really starting to get to him. When she'd gone for his pants he'd very nearly gone along with it, despite the potential trauma of seeing that part of himself sparkling, because the idea of shagging the girl with his nose buried in her hair sounded sublime.

Only he was about sixty…well seventy-five—eighty-two?—percent sure he'd end up biting her. Which could potentially be bad if either he drained her or she staked him. There had to be some kind of middle ground. If only it wasn't so blasted hard to think.

He parked the DeSoto in front of the Sunnydale Pizzeria. From the backseat, Xander took off like a shot through the front doors of the restaurant. Spike heaved a sigh at the lack of manners in today's youths as he helped Buffy out of the car, caught her when she tripped over the curb, opened the door for her, and pulled out a chair at the table Xander had procured for them.

"Thank you," she said with a smile as he sat down. Warmth flooded his chest. The Slayer was a right treat when she wasn't being a bitch.

"Hope you don't mind that I ordered." Xander was gulping down a soda and nervously tapping his fingers on the lacquered table top.

"If it's round and has cheese on it I'm good." Buffy shrugged.

Spike eyed the other Pizzaria patrons, which were few and far between. None of them looked anything other than normal and he relaxed. A pimply server brought the pizza and refilled Xander's soda.

The pies didn't even look vaguely tempting. He eyed the menu. Maybe they had wings?

"Helen! I'm not making it up! I'll show you!" A man in a smart-looking business suit stood up and marched over to their table with a plain blonde girl in tow.

"Hi," the man said. "My name's Hector Poole. I'm having a terrible day-"

"Aren't we all," Xander grumbled.

"What's wrong?" Buffy asked as she flipped the flashlight on and off. Spike thanked whoever for small favors that the beam was pointed nowhere near him.

"He thinks he can read minds!" the woman, Helen, blurted.

"Oh, I had that once," Buffy said. "It's not as much fun as you'd think."

Hector looked taken aback. "No, it's really not."

"What am I thinking?" Xander asked, eyes bright.

A crease formed on Hector's brow, then he smiled. "You wish you'd stayed in bed this morning, ordered pepperoni instead of Canadian bacon and…Amy Yip at the waterslide park?"

"Bingo," Xander said around a mouthful of pizza.

"Really? You…believe him?" Helen appeared to be in a state of shock.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, duh, Sunnydale."

Spike smirked. This could be fun.

Hector turned his eyes on Buffy. "You wish you were normal, and, uh-" He quickly looked away from Buffy and blushed. Now that was interesting. Gulping, Hector looked at him. Spike smiled wider. If the guy didn't like what he saw, well, served him right for snooping.

"Helen, we're leaving." Hector's face had gone pale. He grabbed the woman's hand and hauled her out the door.

"Hey, you have to pay for that!" the pimply kid called after the retreating couple.

Xander looked defeated. "I am so glad I'm not the one that can read either of your thoughts. I'm going to need industrial strength therapy as it is."

"So what now?" Buffy asked.

"How about Anya?" Spike suggested. "Maybe she's seen something like this dark at noon sky before? Not that I'm exactly complaining, mind you."

Xander nodded. "Good a plan as any." He took a long drink of soda.

Buffy leaned towards Spike and put her hand on his knee. "What were you thinking about that scared those two off?" Her voice was low and if Xander heard he was pretending not to have.

"Just you, is all. Naked and covered in the blood of your enemies and, well-" Spike leered. "On top of and going at it with yours truly while I was wearing my demon face. The corpses of some of said enemies might still have been around."

He halfway expected her to throw her diet coke in his face and storm out. Instead she sighed dreamily. "You were thinking about me?"

"Yes, luv."

She sighed again. "I was thinking about you, too."

Now that was bloody priceless. He pulled her into her kiss and that disarming scent of hers washed over him, making him whimper against her soft lips.

"Check, please!" Xander hollered.


	6. Chapter 6: I Am the Night

Your windows have opened wide

-Collective Soul, "Tremble for my Beloved"

* * *

Anya inspected her nails. Being human was ridiculous. Who'd have guessed she would have to spend so much time and money on her nails? And where was Xander? When his work had called and told him not to bother coming in because the sun was missing she'd only sort of been paying attention. But sure enough, at eight in the morning the sky had still been black. That would take a heck of a witch or sorcerer to accomplish. Xander had set off to find help and she'd gone back to sleep.

That'd been hours ago. Hopefully the after effects of his illness weren't slowing him down. It hadn't seemed to be a problem last night.

Anya nearly fell off the bed when the door to the basement banged open.

"Hey, Ahn, are you here?" Xander yelled down the stairs.

Oh, thank D'Hoffryn, she'd been bored silly. Xander would at least give her something to look at. Even if she preferred to see him sweat during an activity that involved either wage earning or her having an orgasm. "I'm here," she hollered back.

Xander clomped down the stairs, followed closely by Buffy and Spike. About halfway down the stairs Buffy tripped on what appeared to be her own feet. Spike didn't even pause as he easily scooped Buffy up and carried her the rest of the way.

"Are you feeling okay, Buffy?" Anya asked as she stood and Xander wrapped her in a bearhug.

Spike gently set Buffy on her feet but left his arm around her. Well, that was the least surprising thing in the history of ever.

"I'm fine," Buffy chirped. "Why? Is there something on my face?"

"Well, you tripped." Anya frowned. "Since when have you been a klutz?"

"Since ever!" All three of them chorused back at her.

She huffed. Apparently, it was one of those things she was just supposed to know. Except it was confusing because Buffy was the Slayer.

"Oh, Ahn," Xander moaned. "It's terrible out there. Nothing's making sense. And Giles wouldn't even help us."

"Berk's too busy with his sodding books," Spike sniffed.

Anya tilted her head. She had no idea why a man of Giles age and maturity put up with as much as he did from Buffy and her friends. Considering how upset everyone looked though, this was probably not the time to mention that. Obviously, they all had unreasonable expectations of how Giles should spend his time.

Xander finally let her go and slumped down to sit on the side of the bed. "The sky's still black. We were wondering if you'd ever seen anything like this before?"

Anya shook her head. "I've seen forced eclipses, but not just endless night."

"Um," Buffy said as Spike's hand rubbed up and down her side. "Do you think it maybe represents the hate and darkness in the hearts of mankind?"

Anya scoffed. "It's a spell. Probably from someone at the electric company."

"Huh? How do you figure that?" Xander was looking up at her like she was nuts.

"Well, it's obvious." She crossed her arms. Everyone was staring goggle-eyed at her. How could they not get it? "Dark? You need lights when it's dark? So more dark, more lights, higher electricity bills."

"I don't think the power company being greedy explains Spike," Xander sighed.

"What about Spike?" she asked.

Xander waved a hand towards the vampire, who had leaned over and appeared to be surreptitiously sniffing the top of Buffy's head. "Show her, Buffy."

Holding up a flashlight, Buffy flicked it over Spike's face. The bright light made him wince. And sparkle.

That wasn't right.

"I haven't seen that one before." Anya had to admit glittery vampires probably wouldn't help make the power company more money. "Bunnies?" she hedged with a shudder.

Sighing, Xander pulled her down on his lap.

Buffy was rapidly tapping her nails against the plastic of the flashlight. "We're going to borrow the downstairs bathroom for a sec. I need to ask Spike something...about science." She grabbed Spike's hand and hauled him off, slamming the door behind them.

Anya leaned her head against Xander's shoulder. Why couldn't people say what they mean? Obviously Spike and Buffy were going to go have sex. But even though they all knew that, everyone was pretending it wasn't happening. That made no sense.

Under her hand Xander felt tense. Probably he could use some sexual relief as well, but she knew right now he wouldn't go for it. Anytime his friends were around he turned into a giant prude.

Xander winced at the sound of a body slamming against the door to the bathroom. "There's a lot of odd stuff going on today Ahn. A lot. Do you really think a spell could explain it all?"

"Sure. It's not a wish, that much I can tell. A magical artifact or demon would create a very specific effect." She wrinkled her nose. "It's got to be a spell, probably one that's gone wrong. Maybe you should check with Willow? As a vengeance-demon my power was innate, she'd probably be more versed in magic from a book."

There was another loud thump from the bathroom. "Are they slaughtering a cow in there?" Xander said, flopping back on the bed.

Anya frowned. A cow? Where would they have gotten a cow from? "I assumed they were giving each other orgasms."

Xander covered his face with both his hands and groaned.

When he stayed that way after a few minutes Anya grabbed the latest copy of People Magazine. "Do you think I'd look cute with Jennifer Aniston's hair?" she asked.

Xander groaned louder. "You can't ask that. If I say yes you'll get mad because you'll think I don't like how you look now, and if I say no then you'll get upset that I think she's better looking than you."

She shrugged. He was probably right. There was another crash from the bathroom. "Should we tell them the sink doesn't work in there?"

The door to the bathroom opened and a tousled Buffy and smug looking Spike exited. Xander sat up and rubbed his temples.

"Um, did you know your sink doesn't work?" Buffy asked, blushing.

"And your bloody towel bar wasn't attached to the wall very well," Spike added.

Looking nervous, Buffy flicked the flashlight on and off a couple of times. The beam hit her jeans and her other hand.

Xander crinkled his forehead. "Buffy, why is your hand sparkling?"

Buffy's blush went from pink to crimson. "It's not…um…no reason." She stuck her hand behind her back. Spike put an arm around her and pulled her against him, all the while looking like the cat that ate the canary.

"Middle ground," he said with a smirk.

"Well." Xander was studying his knees intently. "We need to find Willow. Any ideas?"

Anya pursed her lips. She was so behind the times on sexual slang.

"Middle ground? I've never heard a hand j-"

"Anya!" Xander yelped. "Denial. I'm living in denial. Let's let me stay there, okay?"

"I can call the dorms," Buffy offered.

Anya pointed towards the phone with a sigh. Why did being human require so many confusing rules?


	7. Chapter 7: The Initiative Revisited

What's the matter with you, man?

-Anya Marina, "Satellite Heart"

* * *

When Buffy had called her dorm room to see if Willow was there, no one had answered. After a quick discussion Spike, Xander, Anya and she had piled into the DeSoto to go check and make sure Willow wasn't asleep with the ringer off. Classes had been cancelled and campus was a ghost town.

Trying not to stumble over every tree branch and bit of uneven sidewalk took a lot of concentration, even with Spike's comforting arm around her waist. She really enjoyed him being like this: caring, considerate, almost…loving. Being handsome and a good kisser didn't hurt things either. Plus, everything that sparkled was…wowza.

She was so busy thinking about her new guy that she didn't sense the vampires until she and her friends were already surrounded.

"It looks like lunch time, eh, boys?" the leader, ugly and hulking, sneered. Buffy wrinkled her nose. These vamps were icky and smelly, not at all like hers.

Spike scoffed. "You tossers are pathetic. Didn't you even bother counting heartbeats before you just strolled out here bold as brass?"

The vampires all eyed one another warily.

Spike slipped into gameface. "These humans are taken."

The vamps looked confused and the leader frowned. "There's five of us and only one of you. Seems we can just take what we want."

"I tried," Spike said to her with an apologetic shrug.

Buffy pulled a stake out of her pocket. "It's okay, honey, I've got this."

Spike lit up at the pet name. Then she found herself very busy. The first vamp practically ran into her stake, but the rest were cagier. When she backhanded one, another leapt for her throat. She tried to turn but her foot caught on something, throwing her off balance. Spike smashed his fist into the vamp's face, saving her life. Spike cringed, but the chip didn't fire.

"Oh, hell yeah," he crowed and the fight was on. It was perfect. Spike and she flowed together. When at last there were five piles of dust on the ground, Spike shook off his demon face. He was grinning ear to ear. With a happy squeal, she launched herself into his arms. His lips met hers and he kissed her hungrily.

There was a loud cough. Put out, they both turned to look at Xander.

"Am I the only one worried about Spike being able to hurt things?" he asked.

Spike growled and launched a punch at Xander. It never connected as Spike dropped to the ground, howling and holding his head.

Buffy immediately dropped to her knees and pulled him against her, running a hand over his head. "Xander Harris!" she snapped. Spike had buried his face against her chest and was taking deep breaths.

"You're defending him?" Xander asked while crossing his arms. "He's tried to kill you more than once. This spell is seriously getting old."

She just glared at her friend. That had been before. But now…Spike's pain was her pain. And she…liked being around him.

"Sorry, Buffy," Anya said. "I'll make sure my boyfriend leaves your boyfriend alone."

"Thanks, Anya." Buffy smiled up at the other girl. Anya was turning out to be pretty cool. They were going to have to hang out more. Spike had graduated to rubbing his cheek against Buffy's chest, so she figured he was feeling better. She stood up and helped him back to his feet.

"And it's pretty awesome you can fight demons, right?" Anya smiled happily.

"Yeah," Spike rumbled. He cupped Buffy's face. "I'm glad I can at least help you that much."

He was leaning down to kiss her when another figure, dressed in black, tumbled out of the bushes.

"Buffy?" it asked.

She looked around Spike. It took her a minute to recognize him, because the new guy had a gun of some kind and paint on his face. "Riley? Are you a commando?" Well, that sucked. So much for Mr. Normal.

"He bloody well smells like it." Spike was snarling but Buffy felt him tremble beneath her hands. Immediately, she put herself between Riley and Spike.

"Yeah, I…initiative." Riley coughed. He looked rough. His hair was sticking up in all directions and he was wild-eyed and short of breath.

"Underground bunker, experiment on demons, that sort of thing?" Xander asked. His arm went around Anya, pulling her protectively against him. Buffy felt really proud of him at that moment.

Riley's eyes darted back and forth. "They're just demons," he yelled and clutched his side, doubling over. The gun slipped from his fingers.

"Are you okay?" Buffy asked, more because it was polite to ask when someone screamed in pain, not because she particularly cared. She'd sort of been thinking Riley and her might have a shot. But obviously he'd been keeping secrets. And even if he sparkled—she flickered her flashlight over him and that was a big no—she didn't think she'd want to know if all of him was shiny. Even for science.

Riley was gasping. "No, you've got to help me!" He lurched forward, reaching out for her.

Buffy found herself lifted off the ground as Spike picked her up and stepped back from Riley.

Riley blinked and looked confused for a moment, then his eyes widened. "Hostile 17!" he gasped.

Spike growled.

"Have you come for me too?" Riley fisted his hair with both hands. Drama queen much?

"Uh, mate, I think you might have the wrong idea. I'm here for the girl." Spike's arms tightened around her.

"Demons! You're just dirty, filthy, demons!" Riley moaned.

"Hey!" Buffy snapped. "Don't talk about my boyfriend like that. And he bathes quite regularly, thank you very much."

"Thanks, kitten." Spike nuzzled against her hair.

"Boyfriend?" Riley looked dazed. "He's a vampire."

"Like, duh." Buffy rolled her eyes.

"You must be under his thrall, let me help you-" Riley reached for her, but dropped to the dirt screaming and clutching his head a moment later, much like Spike had. "You can't do this to me. You're all just demons. Unfeeling, unthinking."

Anya frowned. "Well, that's just silly. Where'd you hear that kind of crap?"

"Sods believe it," Spike said, subdued. "They were doing all kinds of things down there. Cutting 'em up while the blighters were still kicking."

Riley lay prone on the dirt, panting.

"What'd your lot do to me?" Spike asked.

"Behavior modification chip." Riley rolled onto his knees, only to clutch at his head again.

Really, Buffy sniffed, a tough guy like him should be able to handle a headache. She gently stroked Spike's back. "We'll find a way to get it out," she told her troubled vampire. This was so not cool. She sort of wanted to punch a computer now.

"This is getting us nowhere," Anya said, looking bored. "Maybe they got a hold of a vengeance demon. It seems like Riley's getting to experience all the pain he's inflicted on others."

"Demons," Riley moaned.

"Whatever helps you sleep, mate. And I'm sure you were just following orders." Spike's voice was cold.

Riley whimpered.

"Should we do something with him?" Xander asked.

With a sigh, Buffy wiggled out of Spike's arms. "We can't just leave him like this. I'll stash him in my dorm until I can think of something." She grabbed Riley's arm and hauled him along with them, stumbling and bawling. She dumped him on the floor of her room. Her empty room. No Willow to be seen.

Buffy tried calling her mom, but the line was busy. She tried again. "Who's she talking to?" Buffy muttered.

Spike looked troubled. "That's not just a busy signal. That's a disconnected line."

"I'm sure everything's okay, but, uh-"

"Let's go check," Spike said. "But it's probably nothing. Road workers cutting the line or some such rot."

Buffy grabbed the front of Riley's shirt. "Don't leave until we know it's okay. Got it?"

"Uh, yeah." He was looking down at her hand. "Buffy, why is your hand sparkling?"

She immediately let him go. "Er…Anya had new lotion with body glitter in it." She stuck her hand behind her back. Spike, the dork, looked pleased with himself.

Xander threw his hands up. "This day is just made of win."

"Well." Anya patted Xander's chest. "Look on the bright side. At least she's not explaining how she borrowed my non-existent glittery lip gloss."

"There's an idea," Spike said into Buffy's ear with a chuckle. Her face started to burn.

Xander made a noise that sounded an awful lot like he'd thrown up in his mouth a little.


	8. Chapter 8: Invaders

Bury me in surprise

-Editors, "No Sounds But the Wind"

* * *

"Willoughby Station!" The conductor's loud voice rang through the car.

Angel blinked. Had he dozed off again? Once again the scene outside the window entranced him. A horse drawn cart went by, laden with swine headed to the butcher's. Angel's stomach growled.

All the people looked neat and clean, and they moved like they had purpose. With a sigh, Angel pressed his hand against the window. This sure looked like a place he could live. A flash of blonde hair caught his attention. It was the same young girl as before. Her dress and manners were sweet and chaste. She raised her eyes to the train. Catching sight of him watching her she gasped and turned away, her cheeks blushing. Just as the train whistle pealed she darted her eyes back to his and hesitantly raised one gloved hand to wave at him.

"Sir?"

Angel jumped in his seat. _Infinite Jest_ slipped off his lap and landed with a loud thump on the floor. "Yes," he answered curtly. He looked back out the window, but there was only grey mist and rain again.

"I apologize," the conductor said. "But you were mumbling loudly in your sleep. And I did look for a Willoughby, but there's no stop called that along these tracks, or anywhere else in California."

"Thanks," Angel muttered. It'd looked so beautiful, so perfect. Maybe the PTB meant for him to go there? It was too real for a dream. Let me have another chance, he prayed. This time he'd get off the damn train.

* * *

Joyce hummed along to the music on the radio as she chopped vegetables for a stir-fry. The Overture to Rossini's _The Thieving Magpie_ if she wasn't mistaken. A good song to cook to, she remembered hearing somewhere. It was nice, with Buffy living in the dorms, that not every radio in the house was tuned to a top forty station. She could end her evening with a nice glass of wine and NPR.

Joyce stifled a sob.

Okay, so she totally missed her baby and the house was always too quiet.

She wiped the tears from her face and grabbed an onion to slice, so that if anyone happened by she'd have a good excuse for being weepy.

She wondered how Buffy was doing balancing the whole Slayer versus schoolwork thing, if she was remembering to brush her teeth, and if she'd met any nice boys yet. Knowing Buffy, it wouldn't be some future lawyer or doctor she'd drag home, probably more of a fixer-up type guy that Joyce would end up doing laundry for.

What if he had his nose or eyebrow pierced? Would she be able to keep herself from staring at it the whole time? And if one of those was pierced what about…other things? Joyce shook her head. She needed to have a talk with Buffy.

God, what would she do if Buffy came home married to some long-haired, tattooed, Harley riding deviant?

"Ouch!" Joyce dropped the knife on the counter, something had stung her leg. Quickly, she pulled her pant leg up, but the skin only looked a little red.

What was going on?

It happened again to the other leg. She yelped and jumped back, but this time she saw the source. It looked like some kind of toy. The thing raised its arm, but she hastily moved to the other side of the kitchen island.

Toys these days. And, honestly, when did Buffy buy this thing? Wasn't she a little old for trans-morphers or whatever it was? It probably belonged to Xander. He seemed like the kind of kid that would still be buying toys at eighteen. She'd have to ask him not to leave his things at the house when Buffy wasn't here.

Walking around the kitchen island she caught the toy with her foot just as it started to turn towards her. It flew against the wall and thudded back to the floor. It didn't move again. With an indignant huff, she picked it up and put it in the trash bag waiting to go outside.

As she straightened up pain erupted on her arm. She dropped so she was sitting on the floor.

Another one of the robot-looking things was on her counter. Well, she never. Xander was going to owe her a week of yard work. Those fall leaves weren't going to rake themselves.

She crawled on hands and knees until she was beneath her cutting board and snatched the knife she'd left there. The stupid toy was walking towards the edge of the counter. She slid so she was lined up with it, her back against the cabinets. Taking a deep breath, the brought the knife up and over her head. There was a satisfying crunch.

She stood and shook the thing into the trash bag with the other one. Walking outside she found a flying saucer thing on the back porch. Oh, that was it, she was so done. She easily broke the toy, which some idiot had even put American flag stickers on, into pieces and was angrily stuffing the pieces into the trash sack when Buffy rounded the corner of the house.

"Mom!" she yelled and started to dash up the stairs, only her toe caught on something and she fell. The guy she was with moved faster than was humanly possible to grab her and keep her from hurting herself. Once she was standing on her own feet the guy left his arm protectively around her waist.

Joyce frowned. Bleached hair, black leather coat, pasty complexion. Oh no. She remembered this boy. Spite? Smike? Suddenly Joyce fervently wished she hadn't been so against long-haired biker guy.

She looked past them and saw Xander standing there. Her eyes narrowed. "Xander Harris, you may not leave your ridiculous toys all over my house. There's a rake right there. I suggest you start on the yard."

"Ah, yes, ma'am." Xander immediate did as he was told.

She rounded on her daughter. The guy appeared to be smelling her hair.

"And you!" Joyce barked.

He immediately stood up straight and looked at her nervously.

"What's your name again?"

"Uh, Spike." He shuffled his boots on the deck.

"Spike, right. You're not still in a band, are you?"

"Uh, no."

That was good. "And what about that girl you were moping over?"

"Haven't seen Dru in quite a while."

"Are you dating my daughter?"

"Mom!" Buffy hissed, looking mortified. Spike turned to Buffy, an eyebrow raised. "Well, yes, I guess so," Buffy said. She glanced up at him and he smiled broadly. Buffy squared her shoulders. "Yes, Spike is my boyfriend."

"Okay," Joyce sighed. "Well, Spike, around here we all pitch in and do our part. You're going to finish cleaning up this mess, take it to the trash, and pull the cans to the curb for pickup tomorrow."

"Yes, Ms. Summers." He kissed her daughter on the top of her head, took the trash bag from Joyce's hand, and set to work without even the hint of a defiant look. Which wasn't so bad.

"And you girls can help me with dinner. It's stir-fry. Though, Buffy, I assume your young man will not be dining on the same food as us?"

"Um, no, I think I might have some bl…some of the stuff he eats in the freezer."

"Good. And dear, since when have you been a klutz?"


	9. Chapter 9: A Stop At Willoughby

You got me tangled up

-Sea Wolf, "The Violet Hour"

* * *

Spike had begun to despair of ever getting his girl alone, which had been the only thing he'd wanted to do since she'd official declared, in front of her mum and everyone, that he was her boyfriend.

After hauling trash he'd helped Xander with the yard. The whole time the boy had looked like he wanted to say something. When Spike had finally called him on it, Xander had simply muttered something about how Spike had better not hurt her and then asked for help bagging up the piles of dead leaves.

Spike had been left with the impression Xander hadn't been talking about any kind of bodily harm.

Dinner had gone well enough, even if the blood had been freezer burned. Anya had nattered on about something and Spike had tuned her out in favor of seeing how much Buffy would let him get away with under the cover of the tablecloth. It'd been a hell of a lot more than he'd been expecting. Though he had to be careful not to give himself away by swaying too close to her in order catch her delectable scent that the soy sauce and onion were trying to cover up.

The meal had seemed to go on forever.

Finally, Buffy had nipped upstairs to change and he'd followed.

Once the door to her room was closed, he pushed her up against it and devoured her mouth.

After a few blissful seconds, she gently pushed him back while she caught her breath. "Spike, um…"

"Yes, luv?" The ground was spinning beneath his feet. He was falling for her hard.

"I…this is all so new. And I'm so worried." She bit her lip and looked at him with big, pleading eyes. "What if…" she trailed off.

"What if this is a spell? Because everything else is bloody wonky today?" His stomach clenched. No, god, no, please. This had to be real.

"It can't be, right?" she said, desperately. "Maybe at first it was. And, seriously, this?" She pulled her flashlight out and played the beam over his arm, making him sparkle. "Pretty, but weird. Plus, every time I fall I feel like something's off." She shut the flashlight off and dropped it to the floor. "But you being nice? And helping me? I like that. A lot. And I'm so happy."

He leaned his forehead against hers. Damn, she smelled so sodding good. He had to stop breathing in order to get enough brain cells together to be coherent. "Me too. I'd do any blasted thing I could to prove to you I can be your man. I'll keep the chip, so you never have to worry about me munching on your friends. Or-" He took a deep breath, hardly believing he was going to say this. "Buffy, if you'd prefer, have your little witch curse me like sodding…that other guy." Spike tried to squish the involuntary growl that rumbled through him.

"No!" Her eyes got huge and his heart sank. He shouldn't have brought up Angel. "You can't do that," she hissed. "Not the soul."

"Why not?" Was she saying he wasn't good enough? He tried to steel himself for the blow she was about to deliver.

"Because then we'd have to stop the touchy-feely stuff and I really, really don't want to do that."

Oh. She had a point there. The touchy-feely stuff was rather brilliant, if he did say so himself.

Eyes dreamy, she kissed him and his hands found their way under her shirt to skim over her back. Moaning, Buffy straddled his thigh and began to rub against it. Yeah, that whole soul-curse thing wouldn't work for them at all.

* * *

"Willoughby Station!"

Angel smiled. He'd been granted another chance!

A quick glance through the window showed that the town looked just as lovely as ever. The blonde girl beckoned to him and started to walk towards the train platform.

Angel hastily grabbed his bag and stuffed _Infinite Jest_ under his arm. The train felt like it was already getting ready to leave.

"Wait, this is my stop!" he hollered. He made it to the door just as the train was pulling away. Leaping, he managed to land on the platform. There was a smattering of applause from the amused looking bystanders. He smiled crookedly at them.

The blonde girl he'd seen from the window arrived, panting, in front of him.

"Hello, sir," she said and blushed the most delicious shade of pink. "Welcome to Willoughby."

Angel reached out to touch her and his vision wavered.

Everything turned grey and rain was beating down on him. He hurt head to toe.

"No pulse, he's a goner," a gruff and weary voice said.

"What happened?" someone else asked.

"He jumped right off a train going at full speed, yelling something about Willoughby station. The conductor that called it in said this idiot had been talking about it the whole trip. Completely nuts, if you ask me."

Angel tried to say something, but his jaw wouldn't cooperate. He was roughly pushed onto a stretcher and lifted into the air. Even with his blurry vision he was able to make out what was written on the back of the truck he was shoved into: Willoughby & Sons Funeral Home.

Wonderful.

Even though it'd probably scare the driver half to death, Angel tried to sit up and say he was doing fine, thank you very much. But he just couldn't. It was going to take a while for things to knit. The hearse hit a particularly rough bump on the rutted road and he blacked out.

Angel didn't know how much time had passed when he came to, lying on a hard slab under a sheet. He sat up and patted his naked chest, but luckily there weren't any incisions. He sighed in relief.

With a loud bang that made him jump, the swinging doors to the autopsy room swung open and a nurse in an old-fashioned uniform struck a pose.

He frowned. "Drusilla?"

She smiled knowingly at him.

"What's going on?" he asked and dropped his head into his hands. This day was just getting worse and worse.

"Oh, honey," she purred. "It's the morgue. And you should know…" Her face shifted to that of the demon and her eyes glowed yellow in the dim light. "Here, there's always room for one more."

Angel gulped.


	10. Chapter 10: Something Old

A/N: I know the book is an anachronism, but I couldn't resist ;-)

* * *

And I assure you my debts are real

-Muse, "I Belong to You"

* * *

Willow sighed and looked at her phone. No blinking message light. She pulled her blanket tighter around her. Talk about feeling like a nobody.

Oz had finally, truly, left, and nobody seemed to really understand how much that hurt. She'd snuck into the girl's bathroom in the dorm the night before to do a spell to try and make reality fit how she saw it. Not the 'My Will Be Done' spell, which had been her first choice, because the stupid magic store had been out of one of the ingredients. Instead, she'd been forced to cast the 'As Above So Below' spell that supposedly packed an even bigger bang. While it'd totally drained her, as far as she could tell it'd done nothing else.

"Just a 'Make Me Tired' spell," she grumbled.

When the spell had been a bust she'd ended up going to her house super early in the morning, before the sun had even risen, to have a good cry all on her own. Her parents were, per usual, out of town. At first it'd been nice—she'd read and watched TV between naps—but now it was starting to bug her that not a single one of her friends had bothered calling her to check and make sure she was okay.

She could be dead in a ditch for all they knew.

Xander was probably too busy getting it on with Anya.

Giles was probably…doing whatever he did now. She didn't really know, but if he was off doing it then Buffy was probably having to vampire-sit.

And once you got Spike and Buffy together and the fur started to fly, well good luck getting them to think about anything but each other. That situation was a ticking time bomb. Either they were going to kill each other or end up so deeply in love you'd need a nuclear blast to so much as think about getting between the two of them.

Even she could see that and apparently she was a complete dummy at relationships.

Willow nearly jumped out of her skin as the French doors to her room banged open. "Xander?" she yelped.

"Oh, oh, thank god, you're here." He sagged to his knees beside her bed. "This day has been terrible." With a groan he buried his face against the mattress. Willow looked up to find Anya standing there, arms crossed, and Buffy and Spike, hugging each other tightly, still outside the door.

Well, that mystery had been solved.

"Um. Hi guys, why didn't you call? I've been here all day, just reading and watching old reruns on TV." Willow sat up and scooted back against her headboard.

"Your phone isn't working." Xander's voice was muffled since he still had his face squished against her quilt.

"Oh." Willow looked around at everyone's worried faces and felt a little better. They had missed her.

Anya sighed. "Willow, did you do a spell?"

"Uh, maybe? Why?"

"Because the entire town has gone nuts." Xander finally picked himself back up. "There's demon beavers, Giles won't leave the old library, all kinds of people are seeing and hearing things, and in case you didn't notice, the entire sky has been black all day."

"I've sort of been inside…" Willow trailed off. Xander looked really mad. Stupid mad.

"And," he said, "Spike is sparkling, Buffy's turned into a klutz, they broke my towel bar, and Spike helped with yard work."

"S-s-sparkling?" she stammered. She looked at the book lying beside her. Oh no. Sparkling vampires and gravity challenged heroines. She glanced up at the TV as a new episode of The Twilight Zone marathon she'd been watching started up. Willow dropped her head into her hands. "Oh cripes."

There was another drawn out sigh from Anya's direction. "What spell was it?"

"As Above So Below," Willow answered.

"Really?" Anya sounded surprised. "You could do that? I'm kind of impressed, that spell takes a serious amount of magic."

Willow sat up straighter. "It made me tired, hence the hermiting." She looked past Anya to where Spike and Buffy were. They were gazing at each other intently and speaking in hushed tones. Spike's hand was on her cheek and he was gently stroking her face with his thumb. "So is Spike Buffy's boyfriend now?"

Spike wrapped his arms around Buffy and buried his nose against the top of her head.

"I guess so," Xander said with a shrug.

Anya yawned. "Like that wasn't going to happen."

"Right?" Willow agreed. "Well, I guess I better end the spell. Hang on." She got to her feet and took a deep breath.

"Uh, Willow-" Xander put his hand on her arm.

She opened her eyes. "Just a minute, I need to do this." She focused on the pattern of her bedspread. "No longer what I think to sow, returning normal to above and below. As these words of peace are spoken, let this harmful spell be broken." With a grin, she looked up just in time to see Buffy push away from Spike, both of them looking completely stricken.

"I think maybe you should have waited," Xander said.

"What?" Willow asked, confused. "I don't…"

Xander rubbed his forehead. "Let's get everyone back to Giles' place and make sure he's okay. Then we can sort out the rest of the mess."

A silent Spike led them to his car. Overhead the stars were twinkling.

As they drove, through what now seemed like regular ole Sunnydale, Willow looked at the solemn faces around her. "Uh, I'm going to make cookies. Everyone loves cookies, right? Requests? I bet Giles has raisins and oatmeal. When you know ahead of time it's not chocolate it's not a disappointment when you bite into one. Or maybe just sugar? With sprinkles? Guys? What about frosting?"


	11. Chapter 11: Something New

_A/N: Thank you for reading my craziness! I love hearing from readers if it's 10 seconds or 10 years after this was first published. I hope you enjoyed!_

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Let me give my love to you

-Death Cab for Cutie, "Meet Me On the Equinox"

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Buffy burst through Giles' door, and didn't trip over the welcome mat. Her Watcher was standing in the living room in a pair of glasses with heavy black frames she was certain she'd never seen him wear before. Her nose scrunched up.

"It's my back-up pair," he said, blinking owlishly through the thick lenses.

Behind her the rest of the Scoobies tumbled through the doorway. Willow immediately headed to the kitchen and started clanging baking pans around. Xander and Anya were arguing in hushed tones about something, and Spike collapsed onto the couch.

Buffy refused to look at him. She couldn't. When the spell had broken she'd felt something snap inside of her. If she looked into his eyes and found them empty it'd kill her. Crossing her arms over her aching heart, she stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. The tears hit her and she slumped to her knees. The bathtub with the chains still draped over the sides mocked her. Weeping, she crawled into it and curled up on her side.

She didn't know how long it was later that there was a timid knock at the door. Her eyes felt like sandpaper. She had to have been crying on and off for ages.

"Buffy?" Xander's voice came through the door.

"It's not locked."

He walked in, along with the smell of oatmeal cookies, and sighed when he saw her in the tub. "Buffy…" She readied herself for whatever lecture he was going to start in on. She was prepared for almost anything but what came out of his mouth. "Would you come and talk to Spike?"

"Why?"

"Because I've been listening to the guy sob into a throw pillow for the last two hours while you've been weeping in here. It's getting old. And Anya has been swearing up and down that all the lovey-dovey stuff couldn't have been created by the spell. And for some reason, I really don't think fake feelings are what have the strongest woman I know and William the Bloody simultaneously falling to pieces."

Hope, tiny and fragile, blossomed in her chest.

Xander held out his hand and she let him help her stand. She kept a hold of him as they walked down the hallway. Even though Xander had told her, the sight of Spike hunched around an orange cushion, his shoulders shaking, still threw her. "Xander, why are you doing this?" she asked, loud enough for Spike to hear. He froze and she knew he was listening.

"Well," Xander sighed. "I figure if it's not this one I'll just be stuck breaking in a new vamp, and that one might not be so helpful. Or as in love with you. Or be as easy to make fun of. So I figured we'd just hang onto this one. And after watching you two mack on each other all day, I'm kind of used to it now." He gave her a resigned smile.

Buffy squeezed Xander's fingers in thanks and gingerly sat down next to Spike. He kept his eyes focused on the pillow.

"Cookie?" Willow asked, adding more to the huge pile already on the coffee table.

Xander snagged one. "I'm sure she'll eat lots. Why don't we head home? It's late."

Anya stood. "I agree, we should let Buffy and Spike talk without us here. They were happier when they were giving each other orgasms and I don't understand why that changed."

Xander groaned, but quickly had the two girls herded out the door.

Giles took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I think I'll go to bed. But I'll remind you I'm a light sleeper and that loft is very open. In other words, I can hear whatever you two get up to." With that warning he stretched and wearily climbed the stairs.

"Weird day, huh?" Buffy asked.

Spike didn't move.

Tentatively, she put her hand on his cheek and turned his face towards her. He looked wretched.

"Spike?" she whispered. Besides not having the bizarre need to check him for sparkles, everything else was still the same. How she felt about him was still the same.

His eyes desperately searched her face. "Buffy?"

She nodded and found herself propelled backwards onto the couch with Spike on top of her, his mouth landing on hers and his tongue eagerly seeking entrance. It was the same. Thank god, it was the same. She arched against him as her lips glided against his soft ones.

"I can hear the smacking!" Giles called from the loft.

Spike chuckled and grinned sheepishly at her while she giggled. He lay next to her on the couch and pulled his arms from the sleeves of his duster. Once it was free, he draped it over the top of both of them and curled an arm around her.

"You're going to have to do yard work for my mom forever," she said with a yawn.

"Small price." He snuggled against her and Buffy relaxed in his arms.

After a moment, her eyes flew open. "We forgot about Riley!"

"Bloody hell, Slayer. I'm sure he'll keep until morning."

"Yeah, he's probably asleep now anyway." She slipped into a light doze, comfortable with her vampire wrapped tightly around her.

The sound of the front door banging open startled her back into wakefulness. Spike mumbled something about body glitter as his arm constricted around her.

"Giles!" a voice called.

Was that…Angel? Buffy squinted at him. He was in a sheet and holding a heavy-looking book. What the hey?

"Giles!" Angel called again. "Something's wrong! Everything was weird out there today, and…" He paused to take a deep breath.

Giles was peering over the loft wall. "Angel? Are you reading _Infinite Jest_? Rather an excellent choice. How'd you end up here?"

"Peaches? Why are you wearing a toga?" Spike sleepily said from beside her.

Angel's wild eyes focused on the couch where she was laying ensconced with Spike under his coat. Explaining anything to Angel right now felt like it'd take too much energy and she was very cozy.

"What the?" Angel took a step back and the book hit the floor with a loud thump. "Oh, no, it's not over! It's weirder inside!" With panic stamped on his face he turned and ran, the apartment door swinging shut behind him.

"Should we go after him?" Giles asked.

Spike settled around her again, purring like an overgrown housecat. "Be my guest," he called.

"Buffy?"

That would require moving, which sounded like a horrible idea at the moment. The worst. Angel would _probably_ be fine. Instead of getting up, she kissed her vampire and called to her Watcher: "No, I'm good!" She looked up into Spike's smiling face. "I'm very good."

~FIN~


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